Breaking The League
by The really real me
Summary: The story follows Sherman, a typical officer worker as he is sucked into a battle between the league and lex luthor, a battle that will change the league and the world, forever.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1:

Sherman hated tuesdays. He hated mondays too, but Tuesday's were worse somehow, they were more real. The awfulness of Mondays could be passed off as a nightmare, a glitch in his life, but Tuesday's brought it all down on him and forced him to admit that he had three more horrible long days ahead of him.

This particular tuesday was a fairly normal one, a cloudy day that could turn into a downpour or a sunny day at any moment. Sherman stepped off the bus and began to walk across a small grassy courtyard in the middle of three buildings. He made his way towards the small gap between two buildings. His work was just a bit beyond there, around the corner to the right, down the street, and then there it was, a large boring building that made monday Hell, tuesday even worse, and a dreadfully slow roller coaster of boredom the rest of the week that plopped him down on saturday wishing he had the energy to do anything but sleep.

The courtyard wasn't much of a shortcut to his work, but Sherman liked it. It let him look up and see the sky. The view wasn't that good today, but he could still think of that little speck, that orbited over him. Maybe it was right above him, its main column pointed right at his head, or maybe the martian was looking at him right now, theirs eyes meeting through a viewscreen.

He kept walking along the brick paths that formed an x on the grass. His eyes stayed upwards, but he walked confidently, knowing the route well. He reached the edge of the courtyard and lowered his head again. He held it low as he walked in the shadows of the buildings that shot up above him. A bit of sunlight poked out of the clouds, making a building sparkle. Sherman kept walking, head down.

He kept walking and reached his building after only a couple more minutes. He entered the lobby, signed in at the desk and headed for the elevators. He worked on the third floor, and on the rare morning when he was feeling happy and energetic he would take the stairs. He didn't today.

He deposited his two slices of leftover pizza that he had for lunch in the refrigerator and plopped himself in the chair in front of his computer. The computer was a desktop, and unbelievably old. It was almost exactly like the computer his dad used to have, that on saturdays, if he was lucky he could play games on. It had worked ok for that, but now, fifteen years later it was hopelessly slow. He turned it on and slouched down in his chair to wait for the unbelievably slow process of turning on to end.

Finally it finished and he was able to put himself into the mindless work of reading through code for robotic vacuums until midmorning.

"Giant evil robots spotted in the subway system," the PA voice said, it was a man's voice that droned throughout the city. "Please remain calm, distress signals have been sent and the Justice League is on its way. please head to your basements and stay there until further information is given."

Sherman smiled, he loved it when there was an attack on a work day, it just sucked on a weekend. He loaded up the one thing he was proud of, a program that saved his work onto a floppy disk. It meant that if his building or the server building across the street was destroyed and all there work was lost, he still had the disk. Then he had a day or more of ease while everyone else worked double time to get back the work they lost.

The boss, a fat middle aged man, walked out of his office. "The robots are a ways away from here so we'll continue for a while, if the robots get within a block then we will evacuate, but until then keep working." He spoke quickly and then walked back into his office, slamming the door behind him.

Sherman took the floppy disk from his computer and put in his pocket. He looked at the code in front of him. He could continue to work for the next five minutes, or he couldn't.

He opened internet explorer and clicked on the only bookmark. It opened to a colorful sight with a map of the city covered by a slowly spreading blue blob. The rest of the site was red to denote a crisis was occurring. Near the top was a box saying: _crisis description: army of evil robots led by Lex Luthor_. On the right side was a column with the symbols of the major Justice Leaguers and their whereabouts.

The site was a bit slow as it usually was during a crisis. It got used so heavily during them that even with all the money that was thrown at it to fix the problems it just couldn't keep up. Sherman quickly glanced over the leaguers. Most of them were shown as on route, but batman was shown as brooding, like he almost always was, the reporters had a lot of trouble keeping up with him. A few were labelled as "heroing" Flash, Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl among them.

Sherman smiled upon seeing the symbols and the words next to them. The robot army wouldn't hurt him. He was safe, like last thursday when darkside came, or last month when lex had another giant army of robots, or that time that brainiac had came. Or that time that the joker came through town with his gang and robbed nearly every single bank in town before he was caught.

He opened the code again and stared at it moving his fingers along the keyboard so that they rattled a bit, giving the vague impression that he was working. He opened the browser every so often, watching as the wave of blue moved closer to where he knew his building was. The number of justice leaguers "Heroing" increased each time he looked, but batman was still listed as "brooding."

It was nearly ten minutes before the boss walked out of his office and snapped, "To the bunker, let's go."

Sherman stood up, checking that the floppy disk was in his pocket and then followed the flow of people to the stairs; they couldn't use the elevator in times of crisis. The herd was over two hundred people, all slowly walking down the stairs trying not to bump into the people around them. The building's security guards, were just part of the crowd, ambling along eyes down, holsters clasped shut. They weren't important, not compared to the gods that fought outside.

Sherman was moving down from the second floor when he heard the thump. It echoed down from the top of the stairwell, five floors above him. Everyone looked up, thinking of the danger it might be. The crowd slowed down, but kept slowly dripping down to the basement.

There was a crash and a form dropped down the stairwell surrounded by shards of glass. Two hundred eyes stared at the mass of metal. Their eyes followed it as it flew past them, machine guns blazing. The bullets spread throughout the 200 workers, killing most of them. Their eyes continued to follow the robot, as they felt themselves grow lighter and the stairs rising up to their heads, blocking their views.

Sherman dropped to his knees when he saw the robot, falling towards him. He looked up staring at the bit of sunlight that slipped through from the glass top of the stairwell. He clasped his hands above him. _Please superman, save me_ , he thought over and over as the gunshots echoed around him. A bullet ricocheted off the railing and struck him in the hand. He barely felt the pain.

He kept his hands held high, and continued to pray even as the people above him toppled, blood spreading across their chests. He was knocked down to the landing. His head thumped into the wet stomach of a dead man, but his hands were still held high, still towards the light. Blood dripped down his right arm, soaking into his sleeve.

He lay there as the guns and screams echoed up from below. His arms stayed raised, his eyes stayed on the little bit of sunlight. The blood on his arm slowed and finally stopped as he lay there. The gunshots and screams faded into the distance and then disappeared.

The light disappeared and there he was, a caped figure floating down towards him. The cape was red and billowed around him. He was in a blue suit, stretched out over a bulging muscled chest, the red S in the middle of it, a comparatively small bald head, beady eyes.

Sherman's hands fell. Something was wrong, he could feel it. It wasn't super man, he didn't look right, the hair. It wasn't right. Then his mind clicked, got past the fear and chaos of what was happening and the name entered his head, Lex Luthor, Satan.

His hands groped around him, searching for some comfort, it moved across the blood covered bodies, barely noticing them, until his left hand found a holster. His hand moved a bit more and he was holding a gun. It was a bulky pistol that didn't seem to fit quite right in his hand, but he drew it close to him as Lex slowly descended.

His eyes found Sherman's and he smiled. "I would drop that gun if I were you," he said, his voice showed the malicious pleasure he got from looking down at the ant before him.

"Please superman,save me," Sherman whispered. He forgot about the gun and the comfort it had once brought him.

"Not even superman could stop me. This suit could defeat any and all of the justice league. It has taken years of our battles and a bit of help, but I have found all of the league's weaknesses and this suit uses all of them, kryptonite for superman, a water evaporating cannon for aquaman, gravity cannon for flash. You name it, I got it. Do you really think you can do anything that superman couldn't?"

Sherman was silent.

"You are no fun Mr., I can't really gloat about my plan if you're silent all the time. He floated down so he was just a few yards from sherman.

"Why are you wearing that?" Sherman asked, gathering his courage. He knew that there was no reason for Lex to be in a random office building, there was nothing important in it.

Lex smirked. "At a distance I look like superman, no one batted an eye as I cruzed through the city. All part of my secret master plan"

"What are you doing here?" Sherman knew that there was no reason for Lex to be in a random office building, there was nothing important in it.

"A good question, you see this like all the other big office buildings in the city it directly connect to the bunker that you use while your betters do battle. All the people of metropolis are cowering down there, and soon enough there will be eight robots and me with them. It'll be a massacre, and there's not a single thing that the justice league can do to stop me!

They'll fight their little war up their, beat my robot army, but I'll have won and then as they move off enjoying their victory, not knowing that the people of metropolis have been massacred, I'll pick them off one by one. I'll start with batman, then superman, those are the most dangerous, and then I'm home free, killing them all at my leisure. All the world will be mine, after all those years of going in and out of jail my plans always stopped, I'll finally win!"

Sherman let out a loud gulp. Superman would die, he couldn't let that happen, superman could never die, not ever. He didn't die. Sherman felt himself raising the gun. "Superman doesn't die, he never does, he can't!" he screamed.

Lex just laughed. What? You're gonna kill me with that little gun? Superman couldn't pierce this armor!"

Sherman pulled the trigger again and again, his hands shaking. The gun held twelve high caliber bullets, he fired all of them in just a few seconds. Lex just smiled. The bullets flew by him, missing or striking him in his armored chest. He burst out laughing, and then one bullet found his unarmored head. It struck him in the cheek, right below his right eye.

His suit was equipped with all manner of defenses to combat heat vision, magic, but nothing to stop a simple bullet. It ripped through the first layer of skin and struck bone. The bone dented and then, a millisecond later, broke.

The bullet shot through the mushy gray matter that made up the mind that had come so close to taking over the world countless times. The bullet hit the other side of the skull and ripped through it, carrying a bit of gray with it.

Blood found it's way to the opening in the front of his head and slowly began to pour down, dripping across the S.

Sherman kept shooting, the gun clicking again and again. Lex kept floating there, his head slumped. everything was still, silent, no one moved. Outside the justice league fought, destroying the killer robots. Below the robot's guns blazed, ripping apart the helpless people of metropolis.

But there, in that stairwell, among the dead and dying, there was silent. The twilight hour, between the war above and the massacre below. Lex floated there, dead, but he had won. He had done it. Defeated superman, defeated the whole justice league. Superman floated above, thinking he was winning, waiting for Lex to show his cowardly face.

He didn't find him for over an hour. He floated down the stairwell, cape billowing, fists clenched. He stared at Lex, his mouth dropped, and then forced itself closed. He turned to sherman, who was still holding the gun.

"What have you done?" he gasped. He stopped, just above the blood and bodies.

"I saved you," Sherman whispered, rising to his knees. He touched superman's boots, clutching them lovingly.

"You killed him," superman said, his voice boomed throughout the stairwell. "Don't touch me murderer!" He rose up above Sherman. Sherman tried to keep holding on, his arms stretched upwards, but then superman was out of reach and Sherman's hands dropped back to the ground.

"Please," sherman gasped, "I did this for you! He was going to kill you! His robots were killing everyone in the bunker!"

"You're lying!" Superman screamed. He swooped down and grabbed Sherman by the collar. "You're behind this! You're the evil one! You broke the rules! You're gonna rot in prison!" He rose up back into the light, sherman dangling below him.

Sherman was silent, slumped and defeated. God hated him. He had failed superman, he wished he were dead. He wished it weren't a tuesday, that he wasn't in the air, that if he looked up he wouldn't see superman crying. But he would.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. Superman was silent, wouldn't even look at Sherman. They flew slowly, just floating along.

It was nearly an hour before they got to the police station. Superman dropped him on the roof and then began to float off. As soon as Sherman's feet touched the roof, he saw his way out, a way to stop it from being Tuesday, a way to stop having to look at superman's face.

He gathered his feet below him and leaped forward into the air, leaving the roof behind him. He watched the ground come closer and closer, it was almost there, everything he wanted in that simple pavement. Then there was the red and blue and he was floating away, the ground was leaving him, he wanted it back, it could help him, make the pain stop, the shame.

Then he was on the roof again, stumbling and trying to get his footing. Superman was advancing, walking. He raised his hand, a finger flicked out, stuck Sherman on the forehead. It hurt. He was falling, the roof came up and whacked him on the back of the head. His eyes closed.

Superman floated off, slowly crying, the tears just trickling down. He looked about him taking in the empty city. He knew it would fill again soon, people would come out, their eyes looking upwards, waving, blowing kisses, applauding, dancing.

He would smile, descend, sign autographs. That's when he would know it was worth it, all the pain, the screams, the death. To see them smiling, touching him like a god, his name written in simple pen ink as holy a the bible, that last glare at him when Lex was carted off.

But then the demon had ruined it, he'd killed him, killed him. Everything he had worked towards, gone, the most important man in his life, gone just like that. He wanted to kill him, punch his head in, boil his blood, melt his skin. But he wouldn't, wouldn't even let him kill himself. He was better than that. No matter how evil they were he never killed them not even him, the evilest of them all, he had been merciful, only knocked him out.

At first he was glad when the streets stayed empty. He didn't have to face the smiles, the joy, didn't have to pretend to smile, wave, be happy. Then a sliver of curiosity entered him. He wanted to know why they were empty, but he didn't, but he had to. He couldn't leave without knowing.

He floated down. He was dreaming, the world was moving around him as he stayed stationary as he floated. There was no desire, only necessity, he had to know, then he could leave, be alone, alone among the ice in his fortress of solitude. No one to smile at him, not for a while at least.

He dropped down to the big door in the side street. It was closed, a solid slab of metal with a little crease where it opened in the middle. It was strong enough to stop any of the villains that might go near it. He took out his keycard and pressed it into the slot beside the door. He pulled out his key to the city and stepped in.

The first thing that hit him was the stench. A smell of sweat and urine, a smell of fear, but this time there was a metallic tang in it. A tang that couldn't be washed out of it like the fear was after every battle. He floated farther in. He saw the first body. A businesswoman in a skirt and sweater. She had three bullets in her back. Only one of her high heeled shoes was on her foot, the other was a bit behind her, broken into two pieces.

He floated over her. He didn't look down, couldn't bring himself to. It only got worse.

These bodies were hit in the front, lying dead, clutching their dead children, the blood lying thick on the floor. The milkman, still in his white uniform that was now splattered red, his stomach ripped open, something yellow but coated in blood peeking out at Superman. He stared, his head tried to sink not having the energy to try to look majestic, but he wouldn't let it, he couldn't look at them.

"Superman!" a boy cried, his voice weak and horse. Superman didn't look down. A hand touched his boot, draping across it. He kept going. The hand slipped off, leaving only a smear of a darker red on the red boot as a reminder. He kept going, looking up, seeing the blank ceiling. Occasionally a bit of blood reached the ceiling, but he could ignore it, pretend it wasn't there, pretend it was just a shadow of a thought.

He found himself following a path to the pain, the sorrow. He didn't want to go towards it, to see it again. He didn't want to feel the pain, but he rose up into the stairwell and there it was. The body just floating there, it's head a bloody mess. It wore his S, it was him, the best of him, and now he was dead, he had died and forced the pain on him.

An anger grew inside of him, an anger he had not felt for years, an anger that he never wanted to feel again, a killing wrath. He shot out of the building, going straight through a wall and then three more. The building collapsed behind him, crushing the sadness with it. All that remained was the rage.

He shot to the police station. Covering the distance in less than thirty seconds. He hovered above it for a second, searching out his prey. The evil behind it all, the one who had killed him.

The rooftop was empty. He shot downwards through the station ripping through the cement walls like paper. He came up above it again, and then when he didn't see the evil he swooped down again, and then again, ripping through the building. And then he was punching the wall, his fists turning it to powder.

But the rage was still there. He let forth the lasers from his eyes. They struck a building, melting glass, cutting through brick and setting an apartment on fire. He stopped, and watched it burn, the flames licking around, the smoke pouring out.

It was his rage. It was slowly dying, going away for now, but it would come back, come back when he found the Breaker. That's what it was the Breaker, the one behind it all, the one who had killed him, who had killed them all. He had clutched his boots lovingly, but it was all a ploy, all to get him, all to kill him, but he hadn't died. Superman was alive even if he had been killed and he would have revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherman woke in darkness. His head hurt, a dull throb that just couldn't be ignored. His hand stung. His other hand moved to it, finding it wrapped in a bandage. He looked around, but was unable to see through the darkness.

"You're up quick," a voice said from the darkness. "Lunch isn't even ready yet."

"Lunch? How long have I...?" Sherman asked, searching for the source of the voice.

"You've been out for a bit less than a day, a short time for being hit by superman."

"Huh," Sherman said. He gave up looking for the source of the voice and was silent.

"Now then, we should probably get some light in here shouldn't we?" the voice said and a light flicked on above Sherman. It was a dull light that barely illuminated the room.

It was a garage Sherman realized. With bikes leaned against one wall and all manner of junk filling the rest of the space. Sherman turned and found the source of the voice. He was a ragged and skinny man with the vague beginnings of a beard that might look good in a couple of months but right then it was just a layer of dirt on his cheeks.

"Sorry about the mess, I haven't had the time to clean up recently, been busy planning the end of the world," he said with a smile. Sherman smiled back awkwardly, not sure how serious he was.

"Lunch'll be done in a couple minutes if you want to come inside," he said turning to walk back into the house. Sherman followed, massaging his temples to see if it would get the pain out of his head. It didn't. He found himself in an equally messy hallway. A pair of roller skates were by the wall with a wiffle ball bat above them.

He walked into the kitchen where a pot was above a burner and the oven was on. He took the seat the man pointed to at the round table. There were five chairs, all empty. The table was the only clean place in the house with only a face down picture frame on it.

Sherman picked up the frame to set it up right. "No, keep it down!" the man snapped, turning back from the stove where he had been checking the pot.

"What? I'm sorry," Sherman said. Then he saw it. The picture, the man, smiling a wife and two children next to him.

"Oh," Sherman gasped, putting the picture back on the table face down, but it was too late. The 'oh' had done it. The tears had been triggered. They were silent, just pouring down his cheeks. His shoulders slumped, but he turned back to the stove and continued to work.

"Do you like mac and cheese?" he asked, the tears distorting his voice.

"I'm sorry, if there's anything I can do..." Sherman said, trying his best to find the right words.

"Do you like mac and cheese?" the man asked again.

"Please you don't have to cook for me, it's fine." Sherman half rose out of his chair, his arms waving around awkwardly.

"Do you like mac and cheese?" the man snapped, turning to face sherman. His eyes were bloodshot and his teeth clenched. It was a face that could murder someone, a ton of someone's even.

"Yes," Sherman whispered. The man nodded and they were silent, the picture back in it's face down position.

The man was a good cook. He made a baked Mac and Cheese and had cooked an assortment of vegetables, all of which were quite good. Sherman dug in, his uncertainties on how to deal with the man forgotten when he smelled the food.

"This is amazing," he finally said.

The man smiled slightly. "Cooking is my life," he said, the smile slipping off his face as he said it.

Sherman paused his fork halfway to his mouth. He watched him, looking for some sign about whether he was going to get angry. It didn't seem like it, but Sherman waited several seconds before saying anything else.

"What's your name?" He finally asked.

"Nicholas, yours?"

"Sherman." They were silent for a while, but it was a better silence, not fearful and awkward, but a simple cloak that draped over them. Sherman found his thoughts moving to superman, the man who hated him, was disgusted by him. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't, not there, not with him sitting across from him.

He swallowed and searched about for something to say to distract him from the tears. "So where do you work?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady, to keep fighting off the tears.

"The watchtower, I'm the head chef," he said and then they were both crying. Their heads low, Sherman's in his hands, Nichols's on the table. They wept, trying not to think about the pain, to think about the other, but then when there eyes were almost dry and there sobs subsided they would hear the other's sobs and the crying would continue.

They sat there weeping for hours until their tears were spent and they just sat there, staring into space and wondering what they could have done to change it.

"She was going to take them to the _Justice three league_ _park_ afterwards, that's why they were with her in the first place," Nicholas said. Sherman was silent, he didn't want to say anything, didn't want to break the spell.

"They were in the bank when it happened, waiting in line. Darkseid just crashed through the ceiling sending rubble flying everywhere. Superman had thrown him, and then he charged in, punching Darkseid all over. They flew around destroying everything... Melinda, the boys... they were crushed in the rubble, dead before anyone got to them."

"I'm sorry," Sherman whispered. There was nothing else to say. He didn't want to talk about his own problem, they were stupid, nothing, how could he be mad that the God who had killed this man's family didn't like him?

"

It's ok, I've dealt with it as best I could."

Sherman nodded. Didn't think about what it meant, about what he had done to deal with it.

Sherman sighed and thought for a second. An odd idea popped out of his subconcius forcing itself out his mouth, "I need to laugh at other people's problems, do you have any romantic comedies?"

Nicholas couldn't help but smile. He nodded and rose from his chair. They found there way to the living room and spent the next several hours alternating between crying and laughing their way through movie after movie. They fell asleep during the end credits of groundhog's day.

It was a boring day for superman. Nothing happened, there was no crisis to distract him from the pain. Nothing but the endless news reports that tried to make some sense of what had happened, of what had broke the system.

They were still working on burying the bodies of the near a million dead people. The city was nearly empty, only the numerous work crew roamed about the city. Superman walked into the cafeteria. He liked walking once in awhile, it was nice not to have to seem godly. Not that he minded that, but different was always good. Batman was walking along next to him, his face lowered and thoughtful as usual.

"Do you know what happened to the cook?" Superman asked as he saw that the lunch bar held only fish sticks and packaged salads.

"Don't know, been busy with finding your breaker guy," he said in his gruff low voice.

Superman was silent, a distant look in his eyes

"Besides, fish sticks aren't that bad are they?" Batman asked trying his best to change the subject.

Superman shrugged, still distant.

"Whatever," Batman grumbled and began to shovel fish sticks onto his plate. Superman followed moving slowly and routinely. Not really doing anything just following the habits of his days.

The night was quite in the house. The TV was on, but it was confused and silent. The movie had finished and yet it was still in the vcr, untouched. The television was black, but still glowing. The shadow entered the room near silently. Only the small creek of the door opening announced his presence.

The two occupants of the couch didn't notice him. They were slumped down on opposite sides of the couch, asleep. The shadow slid forward, his cape flowing along behind him. He took a second to examine them both before stepping back and turning on a lamp. Sherman let out a groan and blinked. The light was right in front of him, and behind it a shadow.

"Hello, Breaker," Batman growled.

"Huhwhat?" Sherman asked, still half asleep. "Know, don't do that, we had pizza yesterday," he mumbled.

Batman slapped him across the face. He gasped and snapped awake.

"Batman?"

"Yes it is me, I tracked you down finally. You never should have kept the car you drove here in, Breaker."

"Huh."

"There's no superman here to make me be nice, just you, me, and my desire for answers," Batman growled

"Don't forget Nicholas," Sherman said. The gravity of the situation had yet to hit him as he struggled to rise up from the fog of sleep.

"He can't help you now," Batman growled, shoving the lamp into Sherman's face.

"Why would I need his help?"

Batman paused. "Do you have any idea what's going on?" he finally asked.

"Nope," Sherman smiled, glad that Batman had finally figured it out.

"What Breaker, had too much to drink?" He kept the lamp close to Sherman's face, his hand hovering over his utility belt.

"Breaker?"

"What? You are the breaker aren't you the villain who killed Lex and broke the Terra code?"

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm Sherman and I didn't kill all the people of Metropolis..." Sherman stopped as the Lamp was shoved even farther into his face and Batman's other hand forced his eye open all the way.

"Bloodshot, of course" Batman muttered and then let out a curse. "He put down the lamp and sprinted out of the house.

"What the hell just happened?" Sherman asked the room, staring after Batman, and blinking as he adjusted to the change of lighting.

"You just saw why they'll never beat me," Nicholas said rising into a sitting position. He smiled at the door Batman had ran out through. "When he realized that you hadn't been responsible for killing everyone, he thought that you were some small part of a plot by Luthor. He didn't even think for a second that the one behind it could be a normal person. They are blind, unable to see the biggest threat to them even when he's right next to them."

He then Sherman knew. He couldn't deny it to himself, not any more. "You killed them, didn't you?" he whispered.

"Of course, I thought you knew that."

Sherman shook his head, he could feel the tears threatening. He struggled to his feet, looking at Nicholas He didn't want to cry. He knew that he should fight. That would be what Superman would want him to do.

"I had to, Sherman. I had to break the cycle. Don't you get it?" Nicholas rose up as well, he moved slowly, not making any sudden moves, like he was approaching a wild animal.

Sherman stood there. "But all of them, everyone I knew?"

"I know. I regret it, but the cycle had to be broken. The villains always break out of jail and then they kill more people. The population of Metropolis has been decreasing for years! Every week a villain attacks and the heroes respond and a hundred civilians die in the crossfire!"

Sherman dropped to the couch, all thought of fighting leaving him. His head fell to his hands, trying to come to terms with the fact that he didn't want to kill Nicholas.

Nicholas dropped onto the couch next to him and placed his hand on Sherman's shoulder. "Please, I need your help. I need you to help me stay human, Please."

Sherman let out a sob and struggled through a gulping breath. His head fell to Nicholas's shoulder and he cried. Nicholas smiled sadly and held him.

Superman was asleep in his quarters on the watchtower when Batman charged in. He shot up into the air, fists raised and clenched, his nightgown fluttering behind him. He relaxed when he saw that it was just Batman.

"He's alive," Batman said, he paused to catch his breath.

"What?" Superman snapped.

"Lex, he planned it all, brainwashed 'the breaker' to think that he had killed him and then faked his death!"

"He's alive?" Superman couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, but he has something planned. He broke the Terra code and he'll do it again, nothing's off limits anymore!"

"Oh God, he could kill anyone he wants to," Superman whispered. He dropped to the ground by his wardrobe and pulled out one of his many uniforms.

"I'm mobilizing the league," Batman snapped and took off. The door closed behind him, leaving Superman with a smile he couldn't keep off his lips.

Sherman woke slowly, the ache the tears had left on his face filtering into his mind. He was alone on the couch, he vaguely remembered Nicholas rising from where he sat and going into his bedroom, letting Sherman fall gently to the couch.

Sherman rose from the couch and slowly began to walk down the hall that led to the house's bedrooms. There were three doors. He tried them all in order, the first opened into the bathroom and the second was locked. The third opened into a large bedroom.

Nicholas was shrugging on a bathrobe when Sherman entered. "Hey," he said tying the sash of his robe.

"Hi," Sherman said. He sighed. "What's the plan for today?" he finally asked.

Nicholas smiled. "We're breaking into the watchtower."

Sherman sighed again, "How?" he said with a defeated shrug.

"You wouldn't believe the power your cook has over you," he said. He walked out of the room and Sherman followed him.

"We've got some work to do before we go to my 'teleporting site'" he said as they reached the kitchen. Sherman could only nod.

Steve was having a pretty good day. He had finally gotten to see batman after nearly a month working on the watchtower. He went through his usual routine with a smile on his face as he thought of the dark mask and flowing cape that had ran by him. He had wanted to ask for an autograph, but he had restrained himself, a fact he was quite proud of.

The new shift came in at 8:30 A.M. like it always did. He glanced over the new arrivals before his eyes rested on the out of place thirteenth arrival. He was dressed in a white doctors coat, but he wasn't any of the watchtower's medical staff that Steve recognized. He stepped down from the operator's station to meet him. He found the doctor and Nicholas approaching him. He relaxed some at the sight, he liked Nicholas and his banana bread.

"Who's he?" Steve asked pointing at the doctor who was trailing a few feet behind Nicholas.

"Doctor," Nicholas said, "I've been sick for the past few weeks. I'm good enough to work, but he's here to make sure I don't relapse."

The doctor nodded and stepped forward. "I'm Sherman," he said, extending his hand.

Steve shook the hand, not having any other option. "I assume you have all the paperwork," he said, his hand dropping away from the handshake.

Nicholas smiled and robbed his hair. "I haven't actually gotten a chance to fill it all out, but he's cleared and I'll get the paperwork in soon, I promise."

Steve hesitated, he liked Nicholas and trusted him, but he knew that he had to follow the regulations no matter how stupid they were. "I'm sorry, but..."

He didn't finish the sentence, Nicholas had gotten out an aluminum foil covered dish. "Listen I just need another day to get it done. I'll have it for you tomorrow." As he spoke he slowly unwrapped the dish letting the smell of banana bread waft out.

Steve couldn't argue with that smell. "Ok, but you better have it when you come in tomorrow."

Nicholas nodded and walked on, handing the bread to Steve. Steve took it and stared at it like it was his newborn baby.

Sherman turned to Nicholas as soon as they were out of earshot. "So, how are you gonna get those papers?"

"I'm not. This is the last time I'm coming up here."

"Won't that raise suspicion?"

"Nah, they'll be too busy to ask questions." Sherman nodded and they continued in silence.

They exited the common area where the teleporter was and entered a hallway. To the right was a long glass window that looked into space with the moon just visible below them. Sherman couldn't stop looking out. Nicholas barely glanced to his right.

They reached the end of the hallway where it formed a T with another hallway. They stopped for a second. "Ok Sherman, remember if anyone catches you, you can't remember why you're there and you can't believe that you are in space."

Sherman nodded and turned to the right onto another windowed hallway, he looked straight ahead, the windows forgotten. Nicholas smiled and turned to the left. He found his way to the kitchen easily and set to work.

The Flash burst into the kitchen at exactly 9:45 like he did everyday. "Hey Barry," Nicholas said as the gust of wind ruffled the apron he was wearing. He rose up from the oven, holding a pizza.

"Is that...?" The Flash asked, barely daring to hope.

"Of course, I have to do something to make up for not being here the past few weeks."

Barry smiled. "You need your own superhero name! Like The Energiser or something!" In an instant he was by the pizza, and pulling away a slice.

Nicholas smiled and shook his head. "I'm not sure about that one."

The Flash, shrugged and then gobbled the slice down in a second, "Huh it tastes spinachy," he said. Nicholas smiled. Barry shrugged and turned back to the ate the whole thing in less than a minute, his hands and mouth a blur.

"You should slow down, it's not safe to go so fast," Nicholas said with an odd half smile.

"Huh," Berry paused, a worm of doubt entering his head, not helped by a burning pain in his chest. "What do you mean?"

"A Berrilla poison for example will kill you if you use too much energy."

"What?" Barry froze, his breathing was coming in ragged gasps. He was dizzy. His hands fell to his knees.

"It attacks the mitochondria in your cells stopping them from making ATP, quite deadly, especially in your body that does everything so quickly, it's already too late for you,"

"How?" His voice was barely a whisper now. He gave a ragged coughing and tried to swallow but couldn't.

"Your body is confused, doesn't know what the hell is going on and so it tries everything to compensate. It's the perfect way to kill you, Flash."

"In the pizza," he gasped. Nicholas nodded.

"Why?" He swayed, trying to stay upright.

"It was necessary... if it..." Nicholas stopped, Berry had toppled over, dead. He sighed, he didn't know what he would have said.

Nicholas pulled the prepared note and a salt shaker out of his pocket. He put the note on top of the body and then opened the salt shaker. He shook a bit of a green powder onto his palm and then blew on it, letting it scatter about the kitchen. And then it was done, he glanced back at his work place of eight years and then was gone.

Sherman had a remarkably easy time breaking into the most secure vault in the watchtower. All he did was stumble down to the bottom level swipe two electronic locks with two keycards Nicholas had given him, and then he was in the vault, an area filled with the most dangerous items the earth had ever seen. He took out his pamphlet of directions and set to work.

Steve was halfway through a game of solitaire when he saw Nicholas and his doctor approaching. He stood up, hiding the game as he did.

"Are you heading down?"

Nicholas nodded. "I've got some groceries to get and where I go Mr. Doctor goes. Though he might actually be useful for some grocery carrying," he said with a smile.

Steve nodded and turned to his controls. "To Central city right?" he asked already setting the controls.

"Metropolis suburbs, I need some spices and they have great spice shop." Steve nodded and reset the controls. He barely thought about it. It was a simple routine.

Nicholas and Sherman stepped onto the pad and at the flick of a switch they disappeared. Steve turned back to his solitare game, not to think of them for days, long after they were supposed to return.

It was exactly two minutes and 45 seconds after Nicholas left when the boom tube opened in the vault. The pile of weapons and odd items dropped through it, falling to the floor of an empty warehouse.

Alarms throughout the watchtower burst into life less than a second later and the thirty leaguers on the watchtower at the time burst into motion, spreading across it, searching everywhere. They found the Flash almost immediately, read the note. Jaws set, eyes hardened. They were silent, ready to fight.

The other twenty leaguers on the surface soon heard of what had happened and then they were unstoppable.

They found the building in less than an hour, it was batman who found the records, traced them through three shell corporations to find an address. All fifty three showed up there, circling it. X-ray vision, telepathy and all other manner of sensors scoured over it and then they entered. It was nearly empty, just a couple boxes and empty space. They found the items easily they weren't really hidden, they had just taken them when the voice spoke.

It was Lex Luthor's, a voice they had loathed, they hated it now. It was mean, laughing at their pain, hinting to their doom. It mocked the Terra code, named the names they feared most, darkseid, brainiac, doomsday, the joker, Vandal Savage, everyone. "Soon," it said, "soon we will kill you all."

Fear grew in the listeners, they knew in their hearts that they were doomed. Fear gave them strength and resolve. They left the warehouse silently. They didn't need to talk they knew what they were doing. What they had to do: attack, destroy the threat that had risen up while they waited. They couldn't let the villains strike first like they had before.

Nicholas couldn't stop laughing. He watched as Batman strode out of the warehouse, his head down, cloak billowing behind him. Nicholas's sides hurt, but he couldn't stop. The hatred and grief within him had blossomed into joy and now came rushing out as a torrent of laughter.

They had worked quickly once they were on the surface, going to the warehouse and putting all of the things they had stolen into boxes. They seemed ready to be moved, but they were really ready to be found.

Nicholas had checked everything, the speakers the hidden camera, everything, it had to be perfect. They then returned to their house and watched as everything happened as he had planned it.

Sherman stared at him. He was afraid. He had suddenly become acutely aware of the fact that he couldn't really leave. He was stuck in the house with the laughing man.

"I don't get it." He said, looking at the small TV that showed the now empty warehouse.

Nicholas took a breath, trying to get his laughter under control. "I tricked them all into thinking that the villains had teamed up and broken the Terra code." He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Terra code?"

"The heroes and villains signed it a couple years ago. It puts some guidelines on what villains can do in return for basically giving villains a free pass when they're caught. It stops big changes. keeps the continual cycle that kills thousands of innocents going. But not anymore."

Suddenly it hit Sherman. What he had done. "So if the league thinks that the villains broke the code then they'll break it themselves. They'll kill everyone, all the villains."

Nicholas nodded. He smiled like a child. Every bit of him fulfilled by one thing, he sat there just staring into space. "We changed the world the two of us."

"We?" Sherman hoped desperately that it wasn't 'we', he couldn't destroy Superman, not him, he loved superman, had saved him, he couldn't have destroyed him.

"You killed Luthor, that's what got it going, I thought a guard would do it honestly, but you proved more capable and willing. You should be proud of yourself, you broke superman."

"I?" He tried to say more, argue against it, but he couldn't, his throat was dry and constricted, he struggled to gulp down a breath and then wept.

Nicholas moved closer to comfort him, but then a knock came on the door. It was a single strong knock that brimmed with confidence and power. It echoed throughout the house, past the hidden pictures and locked doors. Nicholas rose into a crouch, wondering whether to run or to hope it wasn't what he knew it was.

Sherman didn't care. All there was for him was the guilt.

Nicholas sighed. He would face his failure with pride. He walked to the door and opened it, expecting to see the stupidly perfect face of superman. Instead he saw the featureless face of the question.

The two of them stood there in silence for a second. The question staring into Nicholas's eyes. Nicholas, checking for others and then looked where he guessed the question's eyes were behind the blank mask.

"I know," the question said. His voice was flat, not letting on how important those two words were.

"Then why isn't superman here?"

"They don't know yet. They would never consider that there chef has completely destroyed them."

"You have no idea how much power cooking someone's food gives you over them."

"I know it's the power that killed the flash."

"And yet the world's greatest detective has no idea," Nicholas said with a smirk.

"He's grown complacent, only lining up the usual suspects, never considering the outsider." The word's felt dirty in Question's mouth.

"And that needs to change doesn't it," Nicholas said, a smirk rising back up to his lips.

"Yeah," the Question whispered, defeated.

They were silent for a few seconds. Finally Nicholas broke the silence. "Are you gonna tell them?"

The Question was silent for a second. "I don't know," he finally whispered.

"So in other words you know that I was right, but don't want to admit it." Nicholas took a step forward. "You know that what I'm doing will save lives, help the Justice League. Admit it."

The Question was silent and then he let out a defeated sigh. He pulled a brochure out of his coat and handed it to Nicholas, "You work here, and if you ever do anything out of the ordinary without telling me I will tell the league, and then I will come and kill you myself"

Nicholas looked over the brochure. It was for a fancy resort, one that people payed thousands of dollars to spend a weekend at. "As their cook?"

"Yeah, you'll get the job easily."

Nicholas thought about it for a second. "Why don't I just kill you here?" he asked. His voice was unchanged, barely caring that it was threatening someone.

"Then I'll kick your ass." Question's voice didn't care either, it was used to the danger and death. "One more thing, Sherman comes with me."

"You know about him?" Nicholas seemed surprised.

"Of course." His hurt pride rang throughout the words, giving them a sharpness. "There's a reason I'm in the league. Bring him out here."

Nicholas went inside, and returned a couple minutes later, guiding Sherman along. Sherman was still crying, and barely seemed to notice he was moving, just followed the slight pressure that pushed him on.

The Question looked Sherman over, tipped his hat at Nicholas and then ushered Sherman down the steps and into the night. His sobs slowly receded.

Nicholas looked after them for a second, but then turned away, batting the brochere against his leg. He closed the door and smiled. The smile turned into a giggle and soon he was laughing hysterically, the laughter echoing through the empty house.


End file.
